


Chopsticks and Chicken.

by folkykindoftune



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 11:18:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/folkykindoftune/pseuds/folkykindoftune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another modern!au e/R fic. Grantaire doesn't know how to use chopsticks and his mouth tastes like oranges. Enjolras is amused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chopsticks and Chicken.

"I'm getting a fork." Grantaire shouts exasperatedly, standing up and rummaging through the drawer. "God damn chopsticks, trying to keep a man away from his chow mein." He hears Enjolras laugh, and turns around, giving him a look that could kill. "What?"

"Nothing."

"No, what?"

"You're just," A pause, a tilt of the head, a grin. "Really cute when you get frustrated. Babe, you can't get a fork. Eating Chinese with a fork is blasphemy."

"Well, how else am I supposed to get my chow mein fix?"

"Just sit down, you dummy." So Grantaire does, sitting cross-legged in front of Enjolras, making sure their knees touch. He likes it when their knees touch. "Here." Enjolras says, picking up a big chunk of orange chicken with his own chopsticks, and holding it out. Grantaire leans in and takes the piece with his mouth, and chews thoughtfully.

"I like this idea." He grins, leaning in for a kiss. Their mouths slide together smoothy, and when Grantaire licks into Enjolras' mouth, it tastes like citrus. Enjolras thinks he'll burn every chopstick in the tri-state area if it means getting to kiss this boy after every bite. The boxes of takeout go forgotten as Grantaire climbs into his boyfriend's lap, twining his hands in sandy hair; exhaling softly into an orange flavoured mouth.

"You taste good." Enjolras whispers, nipping at Grant's upper lip, filing away the sound he makes into a mental box. "But I think the food tastes better." Grantaire groans, and pulls away slightly to look into Enjolras' eyes.

"This is spousal abuse, you do realize that, right?" He says in a monotone, but the crinkles at the corners of his eyes give him away. "You feed me food like I'm some sort of Egyptian prince, get me all riled up, and now you want the food? _That's_ blasphemy. I'm getting a fork."

"I'll fork you, if you ask nicely." Enjolras winks and Grantaire laughs wholeheartedly, ruffling his boyfriend's hair.

"Maybe later. The food tastes better."

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

"Never."


End file.
